Live for Me
by Misguided Marissa
Summary: In this AU, Violet is the ghost and Tate is the unsuspecting cynical teenager who moves into the house with his family.
1. Past Meets Present

Another story based on invisibletardis' AU Meme and whydoikeeprunning's idea.

**2008 **

When the Harmon family first moved into the infamous Murder House, they were a typical family with troubles. Ben seemed to be a normal husband, who had a normal job, and a normal wife and daughter. But looks can be deceiving; Ben had anger issues and when he had an ounce of alcohol in his system, he was horrible to Vivien and Violet.

One night when he had been drinking and was too weak to fight against the evil that existed in the house, he snapped. He took a butcher knife from the kitchen and snuck up the stairs where Vivien and Violet were sound asleep. He arrived at the door of the master bedroom and quietly walked in. He stared at his beautiful wife sleeping so soundly before raising the knife and slamming it into her abdomen. She woke up with the sudden surge of pain slicing through her and screamed.

Her eyes focused on Ben who was pulling the knife out of her, dripping in her blood. "Ben, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaking. He raised the knife above his head before plunging it into her chest. She clutched his arm as she fought with the pain; her breaths quickened before her grip on his arm eased up and her heart took its last beat.

Violet woke up from the sound of her mom's fearful screams; she arrived at the doorway just as Ben was pulling the knife from Vivien's dead body. "Dad!" she screamed. His head turned to face Violet; he never spoke a word as he walked around the bed towards Violet. Violet ran down the hallway to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She fought the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes; it was not the time to cry.

She screamed when she heard Ben throwing his shoulder into the door. She decided her only chance of survival was to go out the window; she was half way out the window when the door slammed against the wall and a hand grabbed her foot, pulling her back into the room. By this time, she had lost all control of her emotions. "Dad, please! Please don't," she cried. He wrapped his arm around her fighting body as he held the knife in the air; Violet's eyes widened as she continued to cry and try to plead with him. "Dad, it's me. You're little girl. Dad! Please, don't hurt me!"

Ben was too far gone to hear her pleas; she closed her eyes as she awaited her fate. He plunged the knife into her chest, right where his arm could feel her panicked heart racing. Violet fell to the floor after he pulled the knife out, leaving her still alive but nearing death. Her heart fought with all its might to keep pumping blood, but the wound was too deep that the blood went into her chest cavity and soon her heart gave out.

A month later; Ben was in jail for life, the news had finally calmed down, the house was on the market again, and Vivien and Violet were left to walk the house's halls for the rest of time.

**2011**

_I hate moving. _Tate complained in his head as he glared at his mother's grin. _I hate you._ He was walking around the Murder House while his mother talked to the realtor; he had a life and now he was being uprooted to stupid California, didn't they know about weather? It was always 60 degrees and higher, what about fall when the leaves changed? He had only been in the house a few minutes but he already knew he was going to hate it.

"This house is from the 1920s?" Constance asked Marcy.

Marcy nodded. "Why yes. It was built by a doctor to the stars and his family."

Tate rolled his eyes at their conversation. "Place looks like a goddamn horror show," he mumbled to himself. Constance gave one of those "please forgive my son and don't let his actions affect your opinion of me" smiles. "Did someone die in here?" he retorted.

Marcy bit her lip. "Well, full policy disclosure states that I need to tell you about the former tenants." She hated this part and every single time this house came on the market, the story was that much harder to tell. "In 2008 the family that lived here was brutally murdered. The husband snapped one night and slaughtered his wife and daughter."

"Oh my," Constance said as she held her hand to her chest. "That's horrible."

"Cool," Tate replied.

Constance motioned for Tate to go explore. He rolled his eyes and walked around the house, and out the back door. The yard was a decent size considering it was in the middle of LA. In the back, between two trees was a swing that was beginning to rust. He sat down on it and closed his eyes. He hated the constant woosh of the traffic and missed the quiet suburbia life he had back east. "Don't like it here?" a voice spoke, scaring him off the swing and on his butt. The voice snickered.

He opened his eyes to see a cute girl standing before him. "Who are you?"

She held out her hand. "Just a ghost of my former self wandering around this world aimlessly; but you can call me Violet."

He jumped up and brushed the dirt off his pants. "I'm Tate."

She nodded. "I know. Your mom is considering buying this place. I hope you don't mind the rumors that come with this house," she whispered.

He chuckled. "What? About the murder? Nah, every house has some past, right? This one just has a nasty one."

"I was referring to the rumor that it's haunted."

"Like ghosts?" Violet nodded. Tate scoffed. "Bullshit. You shouldn't believe everything you hear, you know?"

Violet giggled. "I've heard this house will make a believer out of anyone."

"Whatever. I'm not worried."

Violet smiled at his stupid confidence. "Well, I better get back. Let me know if you change your beliefs." She walked around him.

"Hey, wait," he said as he spun around to nothing. She was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged and walked back into the house just in time to hear his mother say, "_We'll take it!"_ Tate sighed; this was going to be a long few months before he turned eighteen and left his mom behind him.


	2. Moving Day

_Note: I do apologize for the gap in between posts; I haven't given up on these stories! Just been busy, haha. But I'll keep updating when I can. _

The moving truck pulled up in front of the Murder House and all eyes peeked from the safety of their houses, curious who the next unfortunate souls were. Tate grumbled as he climbed out of the front seat and his sister Adelaide jumped out after him. Although she was older, she had a very childlike personality. She got excited over the littlest things and was almost never upset.

Constance eyed her new house and then surveyed the many boxes that had to be carried in. "Get to work, Tate," she ordered as she swayed into the house. He mumbled some profanity under his breath as he grabbed a box and followed the movers into the house. Addie was running around the yards, enjoying the sunny LA day.

Violet was following Tate around as he carried boxes in the house. She enjoyed that she could be invisible to people when she wanted to and to whom she wanted. She sat down on the stairs as he huffed around, spurting out profanity every once in a while about how his mother should just suck off the moving men and maybe they'd do their job faster. Violet giggled at him; she found him oddly fascinating. He wasn't like the guys she knew when she was alive; he had depth.

She was getting a little bored watching him, so she decided to venture off and spy on the other members of his family. The first one she came to was Addie. Addie was dancing around the house without a care in the world. Violet watched her dance around the empty living room, imitating a guy dancing with her. Addie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face Violet. Violet was startled by that and started to back away. "I know there's something watching me," Addie explained. "I can feel it."

Violet was shocked that Addie could sense her; nobody was supposed to be able to. Since Addie had the childlike innocence, she wasn't tainted by life and could feel other life forces. Addie got a little frightened after she thought about it and didn't know what to do. She stumbled backwards onto the floor and scurried against the wall. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked. "I don't want to die in here," she protested. "Tate!"

Tate heard her screaming and ran into the living room; he ran over to Addie and squatted down. "What is it, Addie? Are you hurt?" Addie shook her head and pointed. Tate looked where she was pointing but there was nothing there. "What, Addie?"

"Tate, we're going to die in here," she spoke, her voice shaking. Tate sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. "I don't want to die, Tate. I don't…"

Tate sat with her trying to calm her down and after a few minutes, Violet decided to venture off to see who else she could find. In the room that used to be her dad's office, she found Constance with one of the movers. He had his pants down around his feet and Constance was… paying him. Violet was appalled by the sight and quickly ran out of the room, not watching where she was going and running into something. "Ow," she protested.

"Violet, what are you doing spying on these people?" Vivien fussed. "I told you not to do that."

Violet rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry… I'm just… bored of this house and interested in them."

Vivien shook her head. "No, you're interested in that boy. Violet, he can't know about us."

"Well, I…uh…kinda already talked to him." Violet looked down at the floor. "But he thinks I'm alive. He doesn't know the truth."

Sighing, Vivien spoke. "Good. I don't want you talking to him, again. Do you understand me?" Violet nodded and Vivien left.

Violet bit her lip as she contemplated what to do. There was a car honking outside that interrupted her thought process. She ran to the front of the house to see a van parked outside the house; an older man, an older red head woman, and a boy whose face was disfigured got out and started to the house. Constance was running out of the office, fixing her lipstick when the door opened.

"Mother, your puppet is here," Tate groaned.

Constance primped herself some more before walking to the door. "Larry, honey," she said in her southern accent. "How was the ride?" she asked. She glared at the older red headed woman and hugged the boy. "Beauregard, my little angel; I missed you!"

"Come on, Beau, let's go find a room that works for you and Moira," Tate said with a smile. He took Beau's hand and as they walked past Constance, Tate glared at her. Violet followed the three of them upstairs.

The first door they got to, Tate opened it and looked in at the purple colored bedroom. He looked at the room and then at Beau; he kneeled down next to Beau and said, "Do you mind if I take this room?" Beau shook his head and Tate smiled. Violet grinned that Tate was taking what used to be her bedroom.

Tate took Beau upstairs to the attic and Beau took a liking to the large room. "Alright, Beau, this will be _your_ room. I'll bring up your stuff after dinner, okay?" Beau nodded and ran over to the window in the attic. Tate loved his brother and sister, and even Moira; he hated Larry with a _burning_ passion and was absolutely detested with his mother.

Moira was in the kitchen preparing dinner when there was a knock at the door. She wiped her hands off and walked to the front door; two young men stood on the other side, holding a casserole dish. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, we're the neighbors from across the street," the dark haired man spoke. "I'm Chad and this is my partner, Patrick."

Moira was taken aback by his use of the word _partner_ but who was she to judge anyone? "Nice to meet you, Chad, Patrick; I'm Moira, the Langdon's maid."

Patrick nudged Chad and Chad playfully smacked his head. "Where is my brain? We came over to bring you this casserole Patrick made. He's not just fortunate in the good looks department, but also a culinary school graduate."

"Oh, well, thank you, very much," Moira spoke as she took the casserole. She heard her water boiling on the stove. "My water is boiling, won't you come in? I'll be right back," she said as she ran into the kitchen.

Chad and Patrick were standing in the foyer, admiring the decorations when Constance emerged from the upstairs. "Hello, I'm Constance Langdon, woman of the house. Just who might you be?" She could already tell they were _together_ and she was appalled that they were in her house.

Chad smiled. "My name is Chad and this is Patrick; we live across the street and decided to bring over a casserole for you. Moira had to run to the kitchen and told us to come in," he explained.

Constance clenched her jaw. "She did, did she? Well, I'm deeply sorry, but we're getting ready for dinner." She motioned to the door.

Chad nodded and walked over to the door. "It was a pleasure to meet you," he said before leaving.

Constance put her hand on the door. "Moira," she shouted, storming into the kitchen. She spotted the casserole on the counter and threw the entire thing into the sink, making it break. "How dare you let those… those… disgusting vermin into my house?"

"I'm sorry, Constance, I was in a hurry and they seemed nice."

"What they are is an abomination and now you'll have to wash the foyer from head to toe, tomorrow."

Moira frowned. "Tomorrow is my day off," she reminded Constance.

"Not now it's not. It's your own fault for allowing _them_ to come in my house."

Moira nodded and continued stirring the noodles.


End file.
